


Nothing Else Matters

by caramel_dixon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark, Dark Thoughts, House Lannister, House Stark, M/M, Oops, Stark/Lannister, War, jaime lannister - Freeform, theon are u ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramel_dixon/pseuds/caramel_dixon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s as if he’s still trying to register what has just happened, still taking in what’s in front of him, realizing that he can call this man his like he’s been wanting to for so, so long. A pit of warmth bubbles in his chest—happiness, maybe, for the first time since he can remember, since his father passed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Else Matters

**Author's Note:**

> eyyyy i'm kind of proud of this one i guess??? i've been insecure about my writing lately and just wanted to do a drabble so that's what i did lmaooo  
> i'm not wuite sure i understand their character concepts very well yet so i didn't implement a lot of dialogue because i know i'd screw it up and people would yell at me u//n//u  
> idk have some angst good luck

“So, I guess… _that_ happened,” Theon mutters nervously to break the silence, twiddling his fingers in his lap. He takes a sip of wine.

“Mhm.” Robb smiles warmly as his eyes scan Theon dazedly. It’s as if he’s still trying to register what has just happened, still taking in what’s in front of him, realizing that he can call this man _his_ like he’s been wanting to for so, so long. A pit of warmth bubbles in his chest—happiness, maybe, for the first time since he can remember, since his father passed.

Theon had been his best friend for years. He had taught Robb how to defend himself better, how to use a bow and arrow, how to be assertive if he were to be the King in the North, but he taught him, especially, how to be. How to make the best out of what you have and how to live every breath to the fullest until your last. Robb became so much happier when Theon came around. He has never regretted a second he’s spent with him.

And now here Theon is, face flushed, a hand reaching out to hold Robb’s own.

Robb takes it softly without a second thought. Theon’s smile grows a little wider, his face a little pinker.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

_(Trust I seek, and I find in you,_  
 _Every day for us: something new_  
 _Open mind for a different view)_  


They meet the next day, ready for whatever was to deter them from succeeding. A war is being fought with the Lannisters today over a dispute that couldn’t be settled by words, according to Tywin Lannister, and Robb Stark had to swallow his pride and risk men’s lives by the thousands. Tywin couldn’t be moved by money or speeches; he’s got mountains of gold already and he’d already been persuaded to keep his dwarf son, Tyrion, alive. Robb guessed he’d never have anyone’s way again.

Theon couldn’t be moved by words, either.

A hand grazes Theon’s, and the latter pulled his gaze up to meet his lover’s. “I’ll come back. You just wait for me.”

“No, Robb,” Theon says firmly. Robb withdraws, something dissolving from his reassuring expression. “You know what happened in Robert’s Rebellion. Thousands upon thousands of men were sliced to pieces, and we only got as far as King’s Landing before we retreated. Their men outnumbered ours by the hundreds. What if that happens today?”

“It won’t. I know what I’m doing.” In his mind, Robb hears his voice crack like a boy’s. He knows he doesn’t know. A pang of guilt strikes him in the chest. The Lannisters always planned something that’d take their opponents like a hound takes a bitch. He’s lost so much already. Robb doesn’t think he can handle losing this.

Something shined in Theon’s stormy grays—something like worry—and Robb felt his confidence diminish bit by bit as his eyes remain fixed on Theon’s. But his muddled brain drags his virile demeanor up through the anxiety and waves it in his face, screaming at him, telling him to move forward. The past is in the past.

“I promise I’ll come back, Theon,” Robb cups his lover’s cheek in one hand, trembling in fear, and gently places a pair of lips on the other. Theon’s gaze remains on the ground. It hurts Robb to lie to Theon, yet because he doesn’t know that he wouldn’t come back, a tiny spark of hope lights in the pit of his stomach.

Robb tilts Theon’s head up so he’d have to look Robb in the eyes. One last smile plays on Robb’s face before he turns away to climb on his horse. His bravery fades in and out of him as worried thoughts run rapid through his conscience.

He’d be lucky to make it back with a limb or two.

  
_(And nothing else matters.)_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

_(So close, no matter how far,_  
 _Couldn’t be much more from the heart,_  
 _Forever trusting who we are)_  


Theon scribbles notes onto paper, immersed completely into his work, knowing the consequences of not finishing it before dawn tomorrow. After every sentence, his eyes trail back down the lines he’s already written and scan every word. He grimaces when he realizes he’d misspelled a word, but lets it slide. He’s come too far to turn back.

He writes two more words before he hears a clink of claw to wood. He sets his quill down; it was a messenger raven, apparently with some important news. The seal’s come all the way North from Casterly Rock.

_(Robb.)_

Theon is suddenly overcome with excitement; Robb had cared enough to write him, between periods of killing and drinking and stressing and sleeping to wake up to more killing and drinking and stressing and so on. He feels, genuinely, for that one moment, important. As if he hasn’t felt important every event he spent quality time with Robb.

His heart racing, Theon peels the red wax seal free and unravels the roll of paper with a grin:

_“Theon,_

_I was told to ask every one of our fighters of their closest family member, friend or lover for reasons you will soon learn.”_

Theon’s heart sunk and his smile faded; this wasn’t Robb’s handwriting. He became anxious.

_“Robb said that whatever happens to him shall be known first by you. I’m only following his orders.”_

Theon is hit with a wave of sickness.

_“I’m sorry, Theon Greyjoy. Robb Stark was killed fighting nobly for his people.”_

Theon collapses to the ground beneath him, shuddering, all functions ceasing. He reads on, unable to move.

_“The Kingslayer put a sword through his eye and out the back of his skull. There was nothing we could do.”_

A pit of smoldering anger bubbles in Theon’s stomach, tears well in his eyes, his mouth hangs agape. It seems to take him hours to understand what he’s read, and he re-reads the entire letter endlessly, trying to find some fault in the system. Something isn’t right; it has to be that. He can’t believe this. He refuses, rather stubbornly, to accept the fate of his lover. He hates the idea. A sickening taste fills his mouth, a dull, pitiful feeling wells inside him, hitting him relentlessly with those words again

_(!! robb stark was killed fighting nobly… !!)_

and again and again. He is broken; a broken man. His thoughts don’t run straight in his mind. They scatter around, looking for something to hold onto to get them back in line. He has nothing to hold onto anymore, he supposes. All at the hands of Jaime Lannister.

That _bastard._

_(you bastard you fucking hell-bent spoon-fed son of a whore bastard i’ll put a sword through your eye and through your skull i’ll do more than just that you piece of shit i’ll tear you apart piece by piece until all that’s left of you is a pile of bones i’ll dig your eyes out of your skull with a bloody spoon i’ll rip your cock off and feed it to the hounds and rip your tongue right out of your mouth you’ll choke on your own blood and die a hopeless death to suffer forevermore in the depths of the seven hells where you belong)_

Tears break from his eyes and ebb down his cheeks in messy streams. He wipes them carelessly, telling himself to quit his whining and to go on, yet his bottom lip keeps trembling and tears keep coming and he can’t stop sobbing like a child. The thoughts weigh heavy on his sullen shoulders, keeping him from caring about anything else. 

_(!! the past is in the past. !!)_

Nothing else matters to him anymore. His everything is gone, just like that. He isn’t sure what to do with himself.

_(And nothing else matters.)_


End file.
